


Love Still Matters

by Starsarescreaming



Series: Fill My Lungs Up [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Companion Piece, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 17:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starsarescreaming/pseuds/Starsarescreaming
Summary: "Do you miss her?" Marinette asked. She put a hand on his shoulder. Adrien looked up, and sniffed, and swallowed down some lump in his throat. He said, “It doesn’t matter.”  / Companion piece to my other story, Fill My Lungs Up. Adrien takes Marinette to visit his mother's grave on the anniversary of Emilie's death.





	Love Still Matters

“Do you miss her?” Marinette asked. It was the anniversary of Emilie’s death; they stood, together, at her grave. Adrien had asked her to come. He didn’t know who else he could ask - Alya and Nino had some event Alya wanted to cover over in Spain, and he wasn’t going to hold them back from their life and living just for a little thing like an almost-decade’s anniversary of his mother’s death.

It was a cool day. Almost raining. There was wind, but not enough that it stung, it just rustled the leaves of the trees and kept the graveyard alive, somehow. There was movement in the grass, and the leaves, and sometimes the sun peeked through the clouds. It was alive in contrast to everything else that was here, at least.

His mother had wanted to be cremated, you know. Gabriel had insisted on a grave, in the family plot, but Emilie had wanted to be cremated and freed and let go on the air. Air felt like breathing.

Marinette put a hand on his shoulder. Adrien looked up, and sniffed, and swallowed down some lump in his throat so he could tell her, “It doesn’t matter.” And, you know what - Adrien really, truly believed it. He managed a smile for her, so that she could see.

Marinette faltered. “Adrien…”

But he shrugged. Stood by it. No, really, it did not matter that he missed her. The ache that choked him up sometimes wasn’t the most important of any of this, though it was real, and true, and tangible, and he loved all three of those things, about it. Adrien had only ever loved feeling things with the whole of his body, and all of his heart, and though he swallowed, now, he loved that he could want his mother so very badly. He loved that he missed her. He loved it, because that mattered, and it was important.

Still.

Mostly just on instinct, Marinette came around to hug him. She stepped forward, and turned, and she had to stand right up on her tip-toes to reach the full height of this young man, her friend, but she did. He stooped, to let her. “It matters, Adrien.”

He had to swallow again.

They stayed like that for a long while, and Adrien stood and Felt the tangibility of Marinette caring about him, which was another thing he could feel, presently, and he reveled in that, as well.

“I always really thought love still counts, you know?” he offered, and his voice wavered a bit so Adrien had to cough, to clear it.

“Mm?” Marinette did not know at all what he was getting at, but she prompted him to continue, because it seemed like he needed the invitation.

“She can’t still tell me, or anything,” Adrien shifted, to pull Marinette closer, to hold on a little tighter - maybe just to hold her there, so she didn’t have the chance to look at him, and he could continue without risking being seen - “But she loved me. And that’s got to count for something. I can still feel it.”

“She did, Adrien.”

“So I guess I think it doesn’t matter. She’s gone, but - I can still hear her singing, or how she loved my hair, and I can’t even remember a time she wasn’t smiling. And I still feel loved, her love is still here, it’s not going anywhere. That has to matter more than the fact I’m just missing her. Missing someone isn’t as big as loving them, Marinette, it never has been. She loved me. That’s what I feel. That has to matter more than aching.”

There was a rather long stretch of silence. Marinette’s eyes were wet. She hid it into his shoulder, and Adrien swallowed over something else, and they stayed like that together, holding on.

Marinette told him, “That’s really beautiful, Adrien.”

She felt, viscerally, the way he pieced himself back together. It was lazy, and casual, and he did not feel the same pressing need to shove all of himself back into some locked box; he built himself back up to being normal and proper and able to breathe once he could find the energy, standing there hugging her, and it was such an intimate thing to be able to feel, pressed against his chest and listening to his heartbeat, that she thought briefly of Chat Noir. Of how she was comfortable, here, and she would be comfortable like this with Chat, and wasn’t that a funny coincidence?

Once Adrien was whole again, he said, “Thanks, Marinette,” and he released her, so he could put down the bouquet of flowers he’d brought his mother: primrose. Sundrop flowers. They weren’t great for a traditional bouquet, but Mum had never asked him to be traditional, or anything other than himself, and she loved these ones.

“C’mon,” he said, and he stood up to take Marinette’s hand, palm against palm: “I wanted to ask if you guys knew how to make apricot biscuits, she loved making those.”

So they went back to the bakery, and Marinette watched Adrien Agreste know that he was loved, and feel it, and remind himself of it even over the aching, and she felt some curl of something in her stomach which took _her_ breath away.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sick right now, and I am meant to be writing my dissertation (cry), and instead I am stuck with romantic thoughts about death, love and grief. Now you guys can be similarly stuck. I didn't have somewhere to stick this into the story, so take this little snapshot of a scene instead!


End file.
